Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

Watch.”
Wallace stood next to him as Hugo poured hot water into the same set of
teacups he’d used when Mei brought Wallace the first night. Steam billowed
up as he set the teapot down. He held the leaf between two fingers as he
lowered it gently into the water. Once it was submerged, the leaf unfurled
like a blooming flower. The water began to darken to an odd shade of brown
even as the leaf lightened in color to an off-green.
“What do you smell?” Hugo asked.
Wallace leaned forward and inhaled the steam. It clogged his nostrils, and
he wiggled his nose as he pulled back. “Grass?”
Hugo nodded, obviously pleased. “Exactly. Underneath the bitterness, it
has an herbal note with an aftertaste that’s like lingering honey. You have to
get through the bitter to find it, though.”
Wallace sighed. “One of those things where you say one thing but mean
something else.”
Hugo smiled. “Or it’s just tea. Doesn’t need to mean something when it’s
already so complex. Try it. I think you might be surprised. It probably needs
to steep longer, but it’ll give you a good idea.”
He thought back to the proverb hanging in the tea shop. Hugo must have
been thinking the same thing as he handed Wallace the cup and said, “It’s
your second.”
Honored guest.
Wallace swallowed thickly as he took the cup from Hugo. It wasn’t lost on
him that this was the closest they could ever get to touching. He felt Hugo’s
gaze on him as they both held the cup longer than was necessary. Eventually,
Hugo dropped his hand.
The water was still clear, though the brown tinge had given way to a green
closer to the color of the leaf. He brought it to his lips and sipped.
He gagged, the tea sliding down his throat and blooming hotly in his
stomach. It was bitter, yes, and then the grass hit and it tasted like he’d eaten
half a lawn. The honey afternote was there, but the sweetness was lost by the
fact that Wallace hated everything about it. “Holy crap,” he said, wiping his
mouth as Hugo took the teacup back. “That’s terrible. Who the hell would
drink that willingly?”
He watched as Hugo brought the cup to his own lips. He grimaced as his
throat worked. “Yeah,” he said, pulling the cup away. “Just because I love